


Up, Up, and Away

by enid_salt



Series: Meet Cute AUs [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enid_salt/pseuds/enid_salt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy Nelson is immune to the charms of the so-called Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Not so much to those of Matt Murdock. (Meet-Cute AU: "I accidentally picked up your luggage by mistake", a classic in it's own right)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up, Up, and Away

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back during the time of the other Meet Cute AUs but was not feeling it back then. Time and some light polishing and I'm warming up to it. Hopefully, others can grow to enjoy it as well. Also, FYI, it bears no influence from season 2.

The flight from San Francisco to New York was delayed by 76 minutes.

Which meant Franklin "Foggy" Nelson had exactly -10 minutes to get to the meeting. He had his paralegal/secretary Karen Page on the phone and was running as fast as he could manage through the throng of people to the baggage claim.

"Just hand out the stuff we had printed. You know it backwards and forward, give them a short overview and I'll be there soon."

Foggy threw elbows and hip-checked his way through despite his vehement promise to himself he'd never be That Self Important Asshole. He hung up as soon as he made it to the luggage carousel. The second he saw the black bag with red piping, he grabbed it and bullied his way back out of the crowd.

As soon as he flashed a few bills, Foggy was in the fastest cab ride to his office in Hell’s Kitchen of his life. He threw in a big tip and resigned himself to ramen for the week to offset the major expenditure - of course, if the meeting somehow went well beyond all the chaos, he wouldn’t have to worry about it for the next month and a half.

The space where the offices were rented out were on the third floor. Normally, no problem but halfway through sprinting up the first, Foggy prayed for three things: an elevator, a time machine, and a body better at running.

“Oh, Foggy,” Karen whispered as she closed the conference room door behind her and he stumbled into the office. 

He threw his bag to the side of break area’s table and tried to minimize the damage via his reflection in coffee pot. Karen rushed over and helped fix his collar.

“They’re not happy with the wait but they almost seemed impressed with the sample? Just, run with it.”

Foggy fanned out the thin sheen of sweat on his body using the flaps of his suit jacket, “Don’t say run. I cannot ever run again.”

After another second of smoothing down hair, they both straightened up and looked at each other. Together they took a deep breath and released it.

Karen opened the door and let Foggy in, “Your 3:00 is here, Mr. Nelson.”

Foggy smiled and greeted the perspective clients, “Thank you, Ms. Page. That’ll be all for now.”

After the meeting was over, Foggy walked the group out of the office door and closed it behind them. Three second pause to be sure that they were out of earshot and Foggy was doing a major celebratory dance. Karen hopped up from the desk.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Foggy nodded and shuffled his way over to Karen, still dancing, “It is. This is the patent-pending Foggy-Nelson-has-a-client dance.”

He pulled Karen away from the desk and the two danced around the office for another few minutes.

Karen pulled away to grab a pair of mugs from the break area, “This calls for a drink - uh, we have coffee and tap water.”

Foggy dropped himself down into a seat, “Let’s really splurge - we’ll go to Josie’s after we close.”

Karen laughed and set the drinkware back down. She pulled up a chair next to Foggy.

“I didn’t even ask - how did San Francisco go?”

Foggy shrugged, “Almost a complete waste of time. I’d honestly be surprised if anything actually came from it. But I did get you a souvenir.”

Karen smiled, “Really?”

Foggy nodded and pointed to his discarded luggage, “The top zipper pocket on the front.”

Karen raced to it and unzipped the bag.

“Uh, okay. They look great but, really Foggy? I mean, what are these, fighting sticks?”

Foggy sat up, “What? No. I got you a model of the tram.”

He walked over and inspected the bag himself. There wasn’t anything in the pocket but the sticks. He unzipped the larger pocket on the lower half of the front of the bag. It had several pairs of protective padding, mostly scuffed as if they had been used heavily over a long period of time. 

“Oh my god,” Karen pulled out a large square of fabric that was also stored in the pocket, “is that blood?”

Foggy noticed the dark stain Karen was questioning. It was very much what blood on black fabric would look like. He began shoving everything back in the bag.

“Okay, so I grabbed the wrong bag at the airport. We are not getting anymore of our DNA or fingerprints on this evidence - this bag. I am taking it back to the airport later. But right now, I’m going to the bathroom and washing my hands.”

They both backed away from the bag, Foggy shivering and Karen trying not to do the same.

They worked the rest of the afternoon in uneasy silence, the fresh excitement of a new client overridden by the weirdest bag mix-up in history. When the clock rang 5, they closed up shop and gathered their things. Foggy was cautious as he lifted up the bag to take it with him.

Karen frowned, “I don’t think you should take it back.”

Foggy shrugged, “I really don’t think I should keep it.”

Karen nodded her reluctant agreement. She bit her lip and shrugged. Then her face lit up with an idea.

“What about calling Brett and having the cops come pick it up?”

Foggy almost dropped the bag. 

“But how do I get my bag back? Plus, all jokes aside, we’re not sure this stuff was connected to any real crime. If the owner’s a real great cosplayer or something and we embarrass them with a full police investigation? I’d hate myself.”

Karen nodded, “Just. Be careful. Meet at Josie’s after?”

Foggy held the door open, “I’ll be there.”

Karen made a slow mozy out the door, “I get to call if you’re not there by 8.”

Foggy sighed, “Yes. You can even call Brett directly. God knows he won’t waste too much time searching for my sorry ass.”

He locked up behind him and shook off the feeling he was being watched before making his way back the airport. 

The wait time in the line at the lost baggage desk almost drove him to just go home and write the bag off. But he liked the shirts he packed and he owed Karen a gift.

“Mr. Franklin Nelson was it? Your bag is listed here as returned, let me get it out for you and I’ll be able to check the other bag back in.”

Foggy was surprised and delighted. He was getting his stuff back and could leave this mess behind him.

The attendant brought his bag forward and took the bag from Foggy.

“So, if anything’s missing, do I call you guys or. . . ?”

The employee nodded, “Yes, you can. But I doubt anything would be missing. From the notes in the system, the man whose bag you took walked this one straight here. Leaving contact info in case you should return it.”

Foggy nodded. His obligation was met and he was free to forget this all ever happened. But the things he saw nagged at him and he had to add.

“Just, for my benefit, tell the guy to make good choices?”

The attendant tried to hide how unusual she thought the request was but Foggy could tell by her pursed lips, she wasn’t eager to do it.

“Yes, sir. I’ll make a note of it.”

He nodded and left before he could do anything else to incriminate himself. 

His night out with Karen at Josie’s was enough to erase all the memory of the damn bag and the stuff inside it. 

Foggy was even peppy as he walked into the office the next morning. Eager to start the day, he whistled to himself as he unlocked the door. But the minute he stepped inside, a wave of paranoia swept over him, prickling the hairs on his neck. He quieted down and subtly went about his routine, on high alert but trying not to let it show. Nothing was out of place or missing, nothing to show anyone had been there after Foggy had locked up. But he could have sworn that it felt like someone had. He brushed it off and made sure not to mention it to Karen when she arrived a minute later.

It was just after 12, a few minutes before they’d put up the sign that they were closed for lunch when there was a knock on the door. Foggy didn’t get up but he listened as Karen got up and answered it. His heart pounded in his ears until she swung the cracked open door to his office and popped her head in.

“There’s someone here for you - asked for you by name.”

Foggy got up and tried to keep his face calm and neutral as he walked over to the conference room. There was only one man, not seated at the table but looking out the large window with his back to Foggy.

“What a view.”

It was probably a nice view, back before the world shifted and aliens from distant dimensions were considered tangible but now, it was filled with cranes and scaffolding.

“It’ll be a thousand times better when the construction’s done. I’m Franklin Nelson. And you are?”

The man turned and adjusted his wire rim glasses.

“The man sent for legal counsel as per my client’s request.”

Foggy and the man sat down at the table on opposite sides.

“Who is your client?”

The man folded his hands on the table, smirking slightly, “Well, perhaps the more accurate term is clients. I am part of a distinguished organization which is in association with several prestigious institutions who do business in the area and we’re always in the business of . . . keeping local things local.”

Foggy cocked his head to the side, “And my name came up in this quest?”

The man’s smirk was intimidating but his grin was terrifying. Like a shark who found a meal.

“The name Franklin Nelson, Attorney at Law has been quite well spread in Clinton. Mostly, thanks to a lovely older woman named Bess Mahoney - I believe she has a son on the police force named Brett?”

Foggy shifted in his seat, “Sgt. Mahoney and his mother are old family friends of mine. I grew up with them here, in Hell’s Kitchen. It’s the neighborly way.”

He made note of the sour expression that briefly crossed the man’s face when he referred the neighborhood as Hell’s Kitchen instead of Clinton.

“Well, that much I knew. It’s impressive. Not many people would come back after the experience of leaving home for the likes of Harvard Law. Even less would start their own practice after being offered a position at somewhere as well renowned as Landman & Zack. You’re one in a million, most literally, Mr. Nelson.”

Foggy felt the urge to fight or flee rise higher the longer he sat with this man without a name.

“Is all that publicly available knowledge? Maybe I should re-think the privacy settings on my social media profiles.”

The man chuckled under his breath.

“Partnerships can achieve many more things than any one individual can, Mr. Nelson. Keep that in mind.”

Out of his breast pocket, he retrieved a card and a white envelope and slid them across the table to Foggy.

“This is our contact information and our customary retainer. Should you accept it, you’d be on our payroll - there’d be very strict rules about conflicts of interest. I’m not saying we’d have to be your exclusive clients but we’d ask you to be much more. . . selective.”

He rose out of his seat and Foggy walked him out of the office before looking at them. 

The card was non-descript and listed an unfamiliar company and a toll-free number with a specific extension for the legal department. The envelope contained a check with more zeroes than Foggy could dream of.

He gave it them both to Karen and walked out to grab some air.

Foggy took a walk, grabbed a hot dog from his favorite stand, and went back to the office to get some work done. He didn’t think much about the offer and tried to think even less about the bag.

Karen, not so much. She came into Foggy’s office with a file folder the next morning.

“So I know we weren’t going to talk about The Bag anymore but -”

Foggy didn’t look up from his desk, “No buts. I’ve had enough weirdness to last me a lifetime this week.”

Karen sat down and put the folder down, open, over what Foggy was working on.

“I recognized the clothes. The stuff we saw anyway - they look just like the garb used by the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

Foggy gave her a warning glare before looking at the printed articles and photos gathered. Sure enough, several grainy shots of a man in black with elbow and knee pads and a mask probably made from folding a black square in half were included.

“And if the suitcase we saw was his, what? We tell the police we gave it back to him? They can’t just track down everyone who has a black bag with red piping - reminder I’d still be on that suspect list.”

Karen shook her head, “No, I’m not saying that. I mean, really look at this stuff. He’s not just showing up at crime scenes; he’s roughing up known criminals while they’re in the midst of committing these crimes.”

Foggy flipped through the rest of the file.

“So, we almost kinda sorta found out the secret identity of the newest wannabe hero vigilante?”

Karen sat back and shrugged, “I don’t know. But I can’t help but feel there’s a lot more to this story.”

Foggy shut the folder and handed it back to her.

“There’s a lot of fishy things going on lately and I’d like to not be a part of any of them.”

Karen nodded, “Yeah, I hear that. I looked up the company - they’re a holding of a subsidiary of a holding and etcetera. There’s no concrete paper trail to follow.”

Foggy wiped a hand over his face, “Well then, thanks but no thanks Confederated Global.” 

Karen reached over and patted Foggy’s arm before exiting the office.

The next day, he indulged himself and walked to the precinct to talk to Brett Mahoney. The sergeant didn’t want to talk inside the building so they walked around the corner to chat a bit. Foggy told him about the bag and the mystery client and the huge check.

“Confed. Global is not someone you want to be in business with, Nelson.”

Foggy frowned, “I haven’t even heard of them before now. What’s their deal?”

Brett sighed, “Their deal is they’re shady as the alleys here at night. The last people my mom tried to convince to go to your office for counseling? A bunch of tenants fed up with their abusive scum of a landlord Armand Tully. They were gathering funds, gonna ask you to file a class action suit but then word came in yesterday - all of Armand Tully’s properties were sold to Confed. Global.”

Foggy let out a shaky breath.

“He said. He said I’d have to be selective with any other clients I’d take.”

Brett shook his head, “And their newly acquired tenants suing them using their own lawyer would be a definite conflict of interest.”

Foggy wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

“I can’t take that money. Get word out that I’ll take their case - pro bono. And Brett, take care of yourself.”

Brett had a beguiled expression on his face.

“What?”

Brett shook his head, “Nothing. Just, make sure you do the same Foggy.”

Foggy walked back into the office, in a near daze, but eerily sure that he was being followed. If they hadn’t shot him the minute he talked to Brett, he figured they weren’t going to and rushed back into the office.

“Karen, please tell me the check hasn’t cleared.”

She peeked up from her typing, “I actually haven’t had a moment to run it to the bank, do you want me to go right now?”

Foggy paced the office, “No, no. We’re not taking it - shred it, burn it, whatever. Card, too. We’re taking them on - tenement case.”

Karen stood up, “Foggy, you’re a bit manic right now. What’s going on?”

He paused and looked down at his rumpled suit and tense, he shook it off and sat down in a chair at Karen’s desk. He motioned for her to sit down and she did. He leaned in close.

“Confederated Global acquired us, then bought out some slumlord’s property because the guy was about to be sued by us - Bess told the tenants they could come to me for help. They’re shady as shit and they’re two steps ahead. It’s assimilate or rebel time and I don’t feel like going full Borg any time soon. Do you?”

Karen had her hand covering her mouth, suppressing a gasp, “I don’t think I get that last reference but I’m in. 100%.”

Foggy sat up, “Alright, we’re in business.”

“Foggy,” Karen motioned for him to lean back in, “I also found some more stuff about the Devil and his Bag.”

Foggy recoiled, groaning in frustration, “We’re about to take on the boogeyman of corporate gentrification and you’re stuck on the Kitchen’s poor excuse for Batman.”

Karen swatted at him, “Hear me out. I’ve been talking to Ben Urich; he’s the reporter at the New York Bulletin who wrote most of the real stuff about the Dev- the guy in the mask. He says he’s even talked to him.”

Foggy looked at her with wide eyes, “The Bulletin is using the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen as a source?”

“He’s not a source. Not really. When Ben started poking around, the guy showed up. Made his case and pointed Ben in the right direction. You know the Fisk story?”

Foggy nodded, “Yeah, he’s some big new thug - tried to come on the scene quietly but keeps getting in and out of jail. Almost as bad as those Russians.”

Karen snapped her fingers in a pointed gesture, “That’s what everyone knows about him - the guy in the mask? Got his name spread around and gathered the evidence he could find and dropped it on Ben’s doorstep.”

Foggy shook his head and got up to pace again.

“He’s working outside of the law, Karen. He’s not on our side. No matter what he wants you to think.”

Karen leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, “He’s a hero, Foggy.”

Foggy scoffed, “He’s a menace, same as the rest of them. Don’t fall for the good looks, the sweet talk, they’re dead giveaways that someone is covering up being a total douchebag.”

Karen’s gaze narrowed, Foggy could feel it on his back.

“‘Good looks’? There has to be a story behind that.”

Foggy brushed it off, “There’s a thousand stories behind that. Don’t ask.” 

Karen pantomimed zipping her lips.

Foggy groaned and rubbed his face, “Please let the Devil thing go. We gave him back his bag. I’ll even go as far as to say if he comes in this office, begging for a lawyer, I’ll listen to his side before I call the cops. Alright?” 

Karen smiled with her lips between her teeth as she nodded. Foggy nodded back and went to his office to get to work. 

It was a bit harder going than expected and he ended up staying late that night. He waved Karen off at the usual time and spent the better part of the night hunched over his desk. 

When he couldn’t see the screen of his computer clearly anymore, he shut it down and locked up for the night. 

When he passed the alley between the building and the next, he heard a loud scuffle. Ignoring his better instincts, he slowly made his way down the narrow passage.

The sounds of a violent altercation grew louder the closer he got. Foggy lamented he had only joked about carrying some type of self-defense weapon with him after the luggage debacle. He hid behind the dumpster closest by when he finally caught a glimpse of the two shadowy figures tussling nearby.

He could just make out the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen in his usual get-up when the masked man laid the last blow to knock out the opposition.

“You just gonna stand there?”

Foggy held back the string of expletives he wanted to shout.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t call the cops,” he asked as he stepped out of the hiding spot.

“He was coming for you.”

Foggy looked from the man on the ground to the one still standing.

“Pretty convenient to say that after he’s been laid out, can’t defend himself against these allegations.”

The man in the mask laughed, “You must be one hell of a lawyer.”

Foggy puffed up, “How the fuck did you know I’m a lawyer?”

The guy turned more toward him, “You refused the check and took the tenement case? Fisk isn’t gonna like it. Sent this goon to cut it off at the pass.”

Foggy started shouting but caught himself and settled for a harsh whisper, “What the fuck does Fisk have to do with this?”

“Fisk owns Confed. Global. His name isn’t anywhere near it - keeps it off the books and out of the papers. And you’re the David about to stand up to Goliath.”

Foggy shook his head.

“What about you? Why are you here - what do you care beyond your vendetta against Fisk? Saving the little guy without getting it splashed all over the news isn’t really your style.”

The masked man grimaced, “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do. I’m here to protect the city. As long as you’re in danger of Fisk and his men, I’ll be here to keep you safe.”

Foggy snorted, “What, am I supposed to be grateful for that? I mean, I get it. Tight shirt to show off the guns, great pants to emphasize that ass and I’m sure most people fall at your feet weeping with appreciation but I’m not someone to be swayed by a nice bod. I’ve been burned too many times by that before. Thanks but no thanks.”

The man stilled in his actions, caught off guard, “I didn’t say - I don’t think. Is the shirt that tight?” 

Foggy snorted, “I tell you to fuck off after you offer to be my bodyguard and you’re focused on how your Vigilante Justice outfit is being received?”

The man straightened up, “Keep an eye out, Mr. Nelson. I’ve got your back, whether you like it or not.”

He began to stalk away and Foggy felt the need to confess everything.

“I found your bag. At the airport. My secretary is convinced you’re a hero. Prove her right. She’s smug as shit when she’s right but it’s cute on her.”

The man paused and nodded. Foggy took one last look at the would-be assailant on the floor of the alley and rushed home, pointedly ignoring the flickering shadow that followed. 

He didn’t tell Karen, otherwise she wouldn’t stop talking about the guy.

They met with the tenants, a bunch of good people who just wanted to stay in their homes with running water and electricity.

Foggy, against his better judgement, took home cooked meals and favors as payment for some basic renovations as he built the case against Confed. Global.

If a certain well-known outlaw happened to take out a couple of construction guys who tried waiting out for Karen and Foggy to leave the building, well, Foggy wasn’t quite charmed by it.

Nor was he excited to have to meet with the lawyer that would represent the management for the case - the corporation decided it wasn’t worth the effort to bring out the big guns and let Tully’s lawyers at Landman and Zack cover the case and they sent out their newest hire to talk to Foggy - his ex Marci Stahl.

“She’s going to eat me up and spit me back out. All over again.”

Karen shushed him as she fixed his tie after he loosened it out of nerves for the dozenth time.

“You always said she was good but you were better - what could possibly have changed?”

Foggy sighed, “I don’t know - she’s at L&Z. She could have gotten all the secrets of killing people the legal way in exchange for her soul.”

There was a knock and Foggy took a breath as Karen rushed to answer it.

She opened the door and it wasn’t Marci on the other side. 

It was a man with dark circular glasses and a white cane.

“Hi, is this the office of Franklin Nelson?”

Karen looked to Foggy before responding, “Yes, it is. I’m Karen Page. Are you in need of legal counsel?”

The man entered and shook his head.

“I’m actually a lawyer myself and was wondering if there were any available positions?”

Foggy stepped up to the man, “Well, I’m Franklin Nelson and in the interest of full disclosure, I’m not sure the firm can afford another employee at present. Thank you for your interest, Mr. . . ?”

As the man opened his mouth to answer, Marci burst through the open doorway and spoke over him.

“Matthew Michael Murdock, how dare you. Getting into bed with the enemy already?”

Matthew winced and turned his head towards her, “Marci. How nice to run into you again so soon.”

Foggy flustered, immediately crossing past Matthew to take Marci’s coat and bag. Karen rolled her eyes and took them both from Foggy.

“So, you two know each other.”

Matthew took a step towards them and tried to speak again as Marci continued verbally steamrolling over him.

“Very well actually. He was stuck with me during our internship. Would have gone solo like you, Foggy bear, if I hadn’t talked him off the ledge. He was amazing. The partners loved him. Tried to give him this case.

She gripped his arm and everyone could see the grimace on Matthew’s face when her claw-like nails sunk into his bicep.

“But this shmuck not only turns it down, he hands in his resignation. I’m surprised, Matthew, I thought you wanted to change things around Landman & Zack. I never pegged you for a quitter.”

Matthew shrugged off her hand, “And I never thought sloppy seconds would be your style, Marci.”

Foggy let his jaw drop before shutting it and schooling his face into a more professional expression; he caught a glimpse of Karen nearly crying after biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Marci let it gloss right off her, flipping her hair.

Foggy cleared his throat to break up the terse silence.

“This floor isn’t at all new but I still really don’t want any blood on it so let’s reschedule this fight for never.”

Marci let out her trademark condescending chuckle, relishing in how it made Matthew roll his shoulders in barely coiled anger.

“Let’s cut to the chase here. Nelson, those squatters -”

Foggy interrupted her, “They are legally protected tenants.”

“- whatever, they can take our generous offer or leave when the building is no longer livable without any sort of safety net. Their choice.”

She held out her hand and Karen handed back her coat and bag. As she walked out, she turned back to Matthew.

"And Murdock, watch your back. I won't be there to cover your ass anymore."

Matthew paid her no attention.

Foggy didn't let her leave.

"You can bully your way around Landman & Zack but you don't hold the power here. The law does. Those tenants have put up with a lot of shit under Armand Tully and I can bet they'll put up with a lot more before they give up on their homes. Don't die on this hill."

Marci grinned, "I do miss you, Foggy bear."

Foggy moved, allowing her to pass.

"Foggy bear?"

Matthew finally spoke after she was well out of earshot.

Karen leaned over to whisper in his ear, "They used to date."

Foggy blustered, "Karen, come on." 

Matthew shook his head, "Can't even imagine that."

He reached into his side pocket and took out a business card.

"I understand if there's no openings right now but if something comes up, here's my card."

Foggy took it and shook Matthew’s hand. The card was perfectly styled - a crisp white with bold black embossing and braille translation under each line; read ‘Matthew Murdock, Attorney at Law’ with a phone number.

“This isn’t your L&Z extension, is it?”

Matthew smirked, “No, it’s my personal cell phone. I’m quite glad I chose to use it for the cards or they’d be useless to me now.”

Foggy shrugged and then thinking about it, “I just shrugged. In agreement. Which is wrong, sorry.”

They exchanged goodbyes and Karen held the door open for Matthew, closing it behind him then mouthed ‘wow’ and walked back to her desk. 

“That was weird, right?”

Karen let out a long, hearty laugh, “Yes! It was totally weird.”

Foggy shook his head and wiped at his face. 

"I'm literally at the point where I'd prefer my life to be much more boring than it is right now." 

Karen let out another string of tinkling giggles and Foggy shuffled back to his desk.

He was, to put it lightly, not in the mood to run into the masked man just outside his apartment building.

"What have I done to deserve this?" Foggy asked the dark starless sky.

“If you want to put an end to the case, ask Stahl for copies of everything Landman and Zack has on Confederation Global. They're hiding something."

Foggy glared at the man without speaking. After too many beats of silence he spoke up.

"Are you kidding right now? I hope you're joking."

The man stumbled over his words, “I’m really not - I don’t do that. While I’m doing this.”

Foggy almost cracked a smile at how much this guy seemed to hang on Foggy’s opinion of him and his work.

“I mean, you’re an actual outlaw, giving me advice on my legal case. It’s ironic at best.”

“I can’t punch every problem away,” the masked man spoke with a hint of dry wit, “and I’d think you’d prefer things to be done the legal way.”

Foggy snorted, “Asking Stahl to risk her job by leaking info to me is not exactly the legal way. But touché.”

The man took a moment before adding, “I was being honest before - I’m out here to keep Hell’s Kitchen safe. I honestly believe that means protecting you and your firm from being crushed under Fisk’s powerful sway. ”

Foggy could understand it. He completely disagreed with the methods but he could understand the train of thought. It was unnerving.

“Why me? There’s people out here still fighting the good fight everyday. What makes me stand out from the crowd?”

The man smiled. It was small but framed in a way that felt truly genuine.

“I can trust you. Most people are just self-preserving enough to do the smart thing. From what I know, you always choose to do the right thing.”

The kind sentiment bloomed a bashful surge of aplomb in Foggy.

“I’m still not sure I can trust you. But I’ll try and convince Marci to work with me.”

The man reached out to possibly shake Foggy’s hand but pulled it back and raised his chin instead.

“I hope I can earn your trust someday. Until next time, Mr. Nelson.”

Foggy started walking toward the building’s entrance, “Not too soon, god willing.”

The man was lost to the shadows by the time Foggy glanced back over his shoulder.

A few days passed before Foggy stopped avoiding it and just called up Marci.

“What can I do to you, Foggy bear?”

He chuckled under his breath, though she could probably hear it over the line, “Don’t you mean for me?”

Marci tisked on the other end of the line, “Not how it usually goes, hon. But I’ll play along. Go for it.”

“I need you to give me everything that the firm has on Confed. Global.”

Marci’s side of the conversation was paused with absolute shock.

“You’ve literally left me without words. What the hell kind of request is that?”

Foggy resisted the urge to bash his forehead in with the receiver.

“So, I sorta got a hot tip that Fisk is running the behind the scenes on Confed. and the stuff you guys have might make the connection?”

Another cutting silence.

“Was that a statement or a question?”

“Both?” Foggy winced and soldiered on, “look I know it’s a long shot and it could get you fired but if Fisk is involved, you don’t wanna have your wagon hitched to this ride, Marci. Even you’re not that low - wait, I don’t mean it like - ”

“I know what you mean,” Marci cut in, “You know, Murdock called and apologized for what he said but added that he thought I still had a soul and I should jump ship while I could still save it.”

Foggy smiled.

“Sounds wise.”

Marci sighed, “Yeah, he usually is. Also kind of a dick.”

“I’d tell you there’s always room here but you’re probably better off dead.”

Marci laughed loud into the phone, “You couldn’t afford me, Nelson. But maybe hire Matt, if you can spare the office space. He’s a fine lawyer when it counts.”

“I can barely afford me, Stahl, much less anyone else.”

The quiet that followed was less taut with pressure than before.

“So, those files?”

Marci groaned, “Foggy bear, Foggy bear, what am I going to do with you?”

“Is that a yes?”

She replied with a tired but fond tone, “I’ll do what I can. And probably dust off my resume just in case.”

Foggy punched the air with cheer, “You’re helping us serve justice, Marci.”

“Let’s hope so. For all our sakes, Foggy.”

More brute squad members try to muscle their way in front of the three of them and they are always driven away by the black-clad guardian angel Foggy has maybe, sort of, almost come around to.

He never ever says so no matter how knowing the smirks from Karen are.

Brett starts to drive by, more and more, and Foggy is grateful enough to not send Bess any more cigars.

When Marci dropped off the last file that should could get, she hangs around instead of bolting.

“Something on your mind?”

Marci shrugs, takes a few steps around the piddly space of Foggy’s office - she never sits in the chairs and it really isn’t big enough for her to do much more.

“Have you talked to Matthew Murdock since?”

Foggy looks up from the file in his hands, “No. We’re bustling, yeah, but not exactly rolling in the dough. Why, have you?”

She smirks a little, letting her nose crinkle in a way that Foggy knows means trouble.

“I have checked in with him a time or two. I don’t worry about him - he’s a big boy who can take care of himself - but I know he’s itching to get back in the ring. And this case would be right up his bleeding heart alley.”

Foggy scoffed, “So, I’m supposed to just ask him to come and help with this case for no money. That is literally the worst argument I could try and make.”

Marci shrugged one shoulder, “If there’s anyone ridiculous enough to actually take it, Matthew Murdock is the guy. Call him.”

Foggy waved her off and she walked out the door. 

It wasn’t until later, when Karen had left for some shuteye and Foggy was close to dead on his feet that he gets desperate enough. He’s just on the wrong side of delirium that he actually calls that moment.

“Hello?”

Foggy slaps his forehead, “I honestly thought this would go to voicemail, sorry -”

“Who is this?”

“Foggy Nelson - Franklin Nelson. Attorney at law.”

Matthew chuckles on the other end, raspy but not rude, “I was almost convinced this was a social call but I doubt you’d mention the attorney at law part if it were.”

“NO! No, um, not that it couldn’t be but no, that’s not what I’m calling - you know, I can call back in the morning -”

Matthew cuts in, “You’ve already got me on the line. What is it?”

“I’ve hit the wall with this case and I can’t pay you but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a fresh set of eyes on this,”

It takes him a second to process the problem with that, “That’s not what I meant - fresh eyes are a metaphor and I should stop talking to prevent this hole from getting any bigger.”

Matthew hums, “Yeah, if you were in need of new eyes, I would direct you elsewhere. But I can provide a more novel perspective.”

Foggy mouthed a thank you to whatever higher power there was up above, “Yeah, that’s great. Um, I’d say we should do this first thing in the morning but it practically is the morning. Why are you even up?”

Matthew hesitates, “Same as you - lawyers hours: work always, sleep never.”

Foggy huffed lightly under his breath, “We should totally change that - let’s go to bed.”

There was a pause.

“Separately. In our respective apartments. You know what. Goodnight, Matthew Murdock.”

Matthew chuckled, “Goodnight, Foggy Nelson.”

After a moment of softly banging his head with the receiver, Foggy hung up and went home.

A good couple of hours of sleep later, foggy was back in the office and streamlining Karen's coffee sludge and still kicking himself for the things he said the night before.

"'A fresh set of eyes' you're killing me, Nelson."

Karen poured herself a glass of water, "At what point do I contact someone about the whole talking to yourself thing?"

Foggy shook his head, "Never. You ignore it and if anyone else asks, deny deny deny."

Karen nearly snorted and waved Foggy away from the kitchenette area.

He strolled back toward his office but stopped at his door.

"Would you consider me smooth?"

Karen floundered before going, "I think you're sweet and honest. Wholesome."

Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose, "Wrong answer. You're supposed to say 'yes but not in a snakeoil salesman sort of way' and smile."

"Foggy, I'm not going to lie to you like that."

A voice cut in, "She's right. Besides, it's a good thing - it makes you worthy of trust."

Matthew Murdock stands in the office. He pointed back toward the open door behind him.

"I went to knock and it creaked open instead. I hope I'm not intruding."

Foggy silently winced, grateful it would go unnoticed and Karen walked over to take his coat.

"Its fine. Just a little chat to get the. . . debate juices flowing."

Karen mouthed the phrase back as Matthew walked forward. 

"So what do you have that needs looking at?"

A short hour later, they were elbow deep in the files, and Foggy was feeling a bit better about where they were. 

"I truly think you guys have something here - a major case against some truly criminal acts of bribery, conspiracy, and racketeering. Not to mention the goons they've sent after you."

Karen looked up from the notes she was typing up to send to Matthew. 

"How do you know about that?"

Matthew reddened, "I might have heard from Marci about things. Not that she told me much." 

Foggy hand waved it away, "I get it. Marci loves gossip probably as much as I do - the juicier the better."

Karen rolled her eyes, "Mr. Murdock, save me from these busybodies."

Matthew shrugged, "Afraid I can't - I'll admit it was nice to hear what was floating around the watercooler, metaphorically speaking."

Karen hummed her acquiescence, "Alone in my principles, it seems. Any other vices we should know about?"

Matthew leaned back into his seat, theatrically drumming his fingers as if he were thinking them over, “I am a picky eater - very sensitive palate.”

They laugh a bit and Foggy leaned forward, “I’ll take your mug then - seeing as you’re probably not going to want a refill.”

Karen swatted at him and then motioned to her desk, “Although I did sneak some green tea packets from the offices next door. If that’s okay?’

Matthew smiled, “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love some.” 

As Foggy got up and gathered the glassware for some tea, Karen leaned forward.

“Final question - very important if you want to work in this office - what are your opinions on the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”

Foggy groaned, “Karen, no.”

Matthew’s jaw dropped and slammed shut several times.

“Oh come on, we’ve been butting heads about this ever since - “

Foggy made a very exaggerated gesture to cut that short.

“Since it came up and I’d like to know how Matthew might break that tie.”

After a long intake of breath, Matthew spoke, “Well, obviously I can’t condone his actions from a legal standpoint but, as a life-long Hell’s Kitchen resident, I can’t argue with his results.”

Foggy nodded and Karen shrugged.

“Diplomatic. Reasonable. I hate that.”

Foggy laughed and set the mugs back down.

“What do you mean?”

Karen sighed, “It sounds like that roundabout lawyer speak that Foggy does when he doesn’t want to tell me things - like when my shitty coffee is offending clients.”

Foggy held up his hands, “It’s called equivocation - you use it or you lose it.”

Matthew nodded, “It’s also very useful in social situations that could potentially result in very awkward pauses.”

Foggy pointed, “See, that is being a good person.”

Karen huffed, “That is not what you did.”

“What did he do?”

Karen leaned in, “I caught him spitting the coffee back up in the sink.”

There was a long groan and Karen threw a very smug smile in Foggy’s direction.

“Yeah, well, sorry Matt but I don’t think this is working out.”

Matthew had his head tilted to the side with a dazed smile on his face.

“Something wrong.”

Matthew shook his head and tilted it back down, “No, just. Most people keep it formal in and out of court - Murdock. Some people get comfortable enough to use my first name but I’ve never liked it. But you said Matt. I liked that.”

Foggy blushed and quickly grabbed the mugs again, “No problem, Matt.”

Karen awed at them a bit, “He’s Foggy, you’re Matt, and Karen is . . . Karen.”

Foggy came back with the round of tea, “A.K.A. The Best. Capital T, capital B.”

Matt took the mug straight from Foggy’s hand, their fingers brushing, “Nice save.”

Karen nodded and held up a smug “O.K.” hand gesture. Foggy glared her down.

A few hours later, Foggy walked Matt out the door.

“So, that’s a thing.”

Karen nearly guffawed, “Oh, I think if you made the right move, that could totally be a thing.”

“I mean,” Foggy gestured to the air near the door, “Yeah, I would but. Wow. That is . . . a thing.”

Karen covered her mouth, “Um, at least he’d be a good addition to the office?”

Foggy nodded.

“Please don’t tell Marci.”

She knows already. Foggy half expected her to bail when he suggested meeting at Josie's but she does walk in and when her eyes catch his, they narrow and she swoops down like a vulture spotting a carcass in the desert.

"Tell me all about your thing with Matthew Murdock."

Foggy took a long swig, hoping he could drink enough in one gulp to get the eel and hopefully gain strength from it. No dice.

"There's no thing."

Marci takes a better, quicker swig after taking the bottle from foggy. 

"Matt calls me sometimes too. I heard him talk about you. He called you Foggy and said you called him Matt. There is definitely a Thing."

Foggy groaned, "How is giving someone a nickname a thing? I've had people calling me Foggy since I can remember."

Marci looked over her shoulder and crooked her pointer finger to gesture for Foggy to lean in.

"What I say right now never leaves this sticky ass bar. Matthew Murdock, God bless his Irish Catholic soul, is the loneliest motherfucker I know. He has no family and I'm his only friend and I'm secure enough in my awesomeness to known that's Fucking pathetic. So, yes, I did tease him and he reacted badly. That's our thing. We push too far until we get to the Shit that hurts. Then we get serious and honest and pretend any tender moments never happen.

She took another swig to wet her drying throat, "but, for all the time we've been frenemies for life, I've never gotten close enough to break through the shell of barriers he's put up. You did, just by being you. So bang him, hire him, whatever, Foggy bear. Just don't hurt him or I'll have to hurt you and you know I don't enjoy it as much as I imply."

"How is this not the weirdest thing that has happened in months?" Foggy asked the open air.

Marci pinched his cheek, "you were always attracted to weird."

"More like weird is attracted to me."

They had a couple more rounds before Marci hit her limit and walked out. Foggy took another couple of long, gulping drinks and stumbled out. He wasn't drunk and he didn't want to be drunk but his senses were dulled and he was able to just turn off his swirling thoughts for a while.

That’s how he ended up completely flabbergasted when he turned the lights on in his apartment and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is seated on his couch.

“Hi.”

“The fuck? Dude, this is an eleven thousand on the not good scale.”

The guy winces and shifts in his seat, “It’s the only way I could think of to get you alone for this without . . . causing a scene.”

Foggy grabs his phone in his pocket, “If you were trying to phrase things to make it seem less creepy, you failed epically, just FYI.”

The man started again before finally leaning forward and removing his mask.

Foggy doesn’t immediately look, he panics and makes sure the windows are all shut with the curtains drawn before he finally looks back to the unmasked vigilante.

It’s Matthew Murdock.

“I feel the need to repeat - the fuck? Matt. It’s. What?”

Matt’s face makes an all too familiar smile. His glasses are off for the first time - his eyes are definitely unfocused but there is still a gaze, beyond the physical, that is turned toward Foggy.

“I know this brings up questions.”

Foggy walks toward an armchair he has near the couch.

“One; pretty much. How?”

As Matt explains, things start to click into place and Foggy finds himself sobered by the most heart wrenching tale of isolation and martyrdom he’s heard outside of a church. Matt, as he speaks, doesn’t look like he expects anything good - he doesn’t reach out and when he finally reaches the end, he looks ready to bolt.

“Why me, here and now?”

Matt runs the rag through his hands, nervous and fidgety, “I talked to Brett Mahoney tonight.”

Foggy laughed, “Wow. Okay. You know Brett too? How have we never met?”

Matt winced, “I know him as . . . the Devil. I do have to occasionally drop the criminals off somewhere. He’s a good man, never been on Fisk’s payroll, not out to collar me just to get the fifteen minutes of fame. Though, the way he speaks sometimes, I think he’s figured it out.”

Foggy smiled.

“So, if he knows, we all should?”

Matt shifted again, posture closer and closer to what a person would look like just before breaking out into a sprint.

“No. I just. He - he mentioned trust. Well, he lectured me on it. Said I needed Hell’s Kitchen and it’s people as much as they need me. He said I should let myself be open to more back up. I thought about it and I trust you - as Matt the attorney, as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. I trust you and this is the best way I know how to show it.”

Foggy moved closer, not quite close enough to touch, “Then why do you look like you’re gonna run for the hills?”

Matt lets out a nervous laugh, “It’s a learning curve? I’m sure you’re not going to hurt me or turn me in but . . . there’s this nagging thought in the back of my brain.”

“Which is . . . ?”

“That this thing between us is all in my head. And, being the good, kind person you are, will go with it out of obligation.”

Foggy doesn’t quite have an answer for that. But when Matt was explaining earlier, a tidbit about heartbeats stuck out most. He grabbed Matt’s hand, wrapped his fingers around Matt’s wrist and let his wrist rest on Matt’s fingers; their pulses held in each other’s grips.

“I trust you.”

Matt nodded.

They talked a bit more, not letting go. But Matt turned his head and listened to a sound that probably wasn’t even being picked up by Foggy’s ears. He pulls the mask back on and is at the door when Foggy calls out.

“Hey Matt, did the airline say anything when you picked up your bag? Like, a message from me?”

Matt turned, the shadow of his mask almost covering his smile, “They told me you wanted me to make good choices.”

Foggy walked over and before he could think his way out of it, pressed his lips to Matt’s.

“Keep doing that. For me.”

Matt kissed him back, deeper and his arm wrapped around Foggy’s waist.

“Always.”


End file.
